


Friends With Benefits - A Frerard Smut Oneshot

by surgeonproctorhelicopter



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frank Iero and Gerard Way - Freeform, Frerard, Frerard Oneshot, Frerard smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Gerard Way and Frank Iero - Freeform, M/M, MCR, Oneshot, Smut, frerard one shots, my chemical romance - Freeform, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surgeonproctorhelicopter/pseuds/surgeonproctorhelicopter





	Friends With Benefits - A Frerard Smut Oneshot

"RUN! SPRINT! push yourselves!" coach blows the whistle, and my thirteen teammates and i sprint as hard as we can, for the tenth time in the past two minutes, all the way down the court, touching the navy blue mat plastered up on the wall, and sprint all the way back down the court, running as fast as our tired legs can carry us. "you all have ten seconds to make it down and back, and if one person doesn't, you do it again." with this, he blows another sharp tone on his whistle and i sprint impossibly fast, noticing frank a few feet ahead of me. his ass looks fucking good, even in those baggy fucking basketball shorts, and i know for a fact that underneath those shorts looks even better, and i can see, barely see, but it's there, the skin of his chest through his sopping wet white practice jersey.

coach blows the whistle, and i'm still a good fucking ten feet away from the line, along with four other guys, so i know we have to run again. frank made it with two seconds to spare, and now he's lifting his jersey up above his abdomen, barely below his nipples, to wipe the sweat from his face.

we all line up again, and coach blows the whistle, pacing back and forth as he quietly counts to himself. "WHY ARE YOU ALL SO SLOW? YOU'RE BIG, SOFT, SLOW MARSHMALLOWS. YOU LET ASHLEY HIGH PUSH YOU AROUND YESTERDAY LIKE YOU'RE MARSHMALLOWS OR SOMETHING. SPRINT! YOU'RE ALL SO SLOW!" he gets to ten, screeches his whistle, and this time, six guys didn't make it. i jumped across the line in the last second as frank stood there, looking like he was fucking resting because he's so damn fast.

frank looks at me and licks his lips before shaking his head, forgetting we had been sentenced to two hours of hell. the hellish hours could end soon if we weren't such a slow and sucky team, but we are, and i'd be surprised if we were released within the next two tries.

five sprints later, we're all in the middle of the gym floor standing around the circle, the smell of the old gym and sweat and fear all mixing together. we're clapping up a fucking storm, trying to be loud so coach doesn't get pissed and make us run some more. "a quiet gym is a losing gym," he always says.

frank shouts at the top of his lungs, "THREE, TWO, ONE!" and as he says one, all the clapping ceases, and the only sound in the whole building is the echo of our collective voice and the squeak of ray's shoe on the wooden floor. this was the time when all the hard work seems worth it, when your team unites and you all realize how much you love each other, and i realize how much i wish we had won our game yesterday, and i realize how much i wish i could give frank a blow job.

"i think our practice today was...decent. it was better than our game yesterday. ashley will not beat us again. do you understand me? you're better than what you showed me yesterday." he keeps talking, but i zone out because i know he'll go on a rant about pointless shit about how college scouts are watching us, and how terrible our attitudes are. as if any of us care about the college scouts; the only one of us that even wants to play in college is joe, and he's a sophomore, but he's good enough to play for any university right now if they'd let him. frank is the second best on the team, and everyone thinks he wants to play in college, but i know he would rather do anything else. he's not going to college. he wants to graduate early and move away, somewhere fucking far away from this tiny fucking town, and he wants to live out his dream of being in the music business. if you heard frank sing and play guitar, you would understand why, and if you saw what he wrote, you'd understand that this boy stands a fucking chance. if you saw the way he looks when he's sweaty like that, standing with his hands on his hips, his hips cocked up to the right side, his black hair absolutely flat against his head, beads and beads of sweat running down his red forehead, you'd understand why i want nothing more than him right now, his body, his touch, his everything.

"bring it in," coach finally says, and i'm relieved, because all i have to do now is make four foul shots and then i can go home. we all make our small circle even tighter, raising our right hands, and frank shouts, "canes on three, one, two, three," and everyone echoes, "canes!"

each boy then breaks into pairs, scattering to find a basket to shoot our four free throws at. in order to leave, we have to make four foul shots, and then we're allowed out of the gym.

frankie and i are partners, as usual, and we run to the basket in the far left corner of the gym. he bends down to take his first shot, dribbling the ball two times and pumping his legs. he does the same routing every time he's behind the line, and it seems to really work. his shot is perfect like it always is, and the ball circles before swishing through the net.

i fetch his rebound and walk behind the line. i dribble four times; the last two dribbles, i look up at the basket, before bending down and repeating my normal free throw routine that is certainly not fool-proof. i shoot the ball, and my follow through fails immediately, but the ball slaps against the backboard and stumbles into the hoop. i'm surprised i make it.

frank catches the ball before it even touches the ground. we go to switch places, and frankie slaps my ass. hard. he grabs my ass and squeezes it before rubbing and finally smacking again, and i can't help but moan because who wouldn't moan when frank fucking iero grabs your ass. i should be used to it, but it's still so hot every time he touches me. "keep it up, and you might earn yourself a reward, gee," he whispers before i pass the ball to him and smirk, jogging to a position underneath the basket.

it's quite unusual for frank and me to be going back and forth like this during practice. we usually fuck other times and places, like at a party, or when my parents aren't home which is literally every day, or in the bathroom in the auditorium fifteen minutes into e period. but never before or after basketball. we've been friends with benefits for three months, and we've never even considered mixing that with basketball, ever. it that changes today, i'll be fucking grateful, because i could certainly go for frank iero touching my ass more.

frank swishes his next three shots, and i miss five in a row. the next goes in, and the following misses. i finally manage to make two in a row, and frank and i are the last ones out of the gym, aside from coach who's bitching about how no one put up the balls. frank and i vow to put the balls back, and lock the closet door back, and with that, we are officially the only two people left in the gymnasium and we're running around, racking each ball before wheeling them into the closet on the side of the gym. we don't say a word to each other, but we don't need to. frankie touches me twice more before we're done, once on my stomach and once on my ass again.

finally, we sprint to the locker room, eager to get whatever they hell was about to happen started.

joe is the only one left in the locker room besides us, and he's changing his shirt. joe's attractive, but he's not half as hot as frank. he's been recruited for basketball from a canada, because since our school doesn't have a football team, they view basketball as a priority, so much as to fucking recruit from other countries. joe is fantastic, but he's a 17 or 18 year old sophomore in freshman classes dating a senior girl. my school doesn't care if he tries in academics or not, as long as he gets us points and wins on the basketball court.

"bye, guys," he says before wiping his face with his jersey and putting on a nike tank top followed by a navy sweatshirt. we each tell him bye and watch him stagger out of the locker room.

i'm taking off my right basketball shoe to exchange it for slide ons when frank gently closes the door. i feel my stomach flop because frank never closes the door when either of us are changing. we aren't self conscious people.

as i'm untying my left shoe, i feel frank's breath heavy and warm and uneven above me, ruffling my bright red hair. he waits until i have both my shoes of, and he kisses me. hard. he licks into my mouth, opening his parted lips really wide and opening mine along with them. his tongue grazes over my teeth and next over the roof of my mouth.

my hands rise to his hips, gripping onto his jersey. frank's hands travel to my neck and my hair, and he pulls me up off the bench by both my neck and hair. i moan into his mouth as his grip on my neck tightens, long, rough fingers digging and pressing into my throat.

"saw you staring at my ass while we were running," he breathes out in a low growl. i feel my cock literally jump at his words and i know my semi isn't very well hidden underneath the soft mesh shorts. "naughty little gerard, should have been sprinting for his team, but was looking at his daddy's ass instead." he stops talking long enough to bite my neck gently, tugging at the skin with his teeth, lips and tongue sucking the delicate skin and causing it to turn a deep shade of red. his mouth returns to mine, and he's saying, "you just wanted your daddy's ass to be grinding on your cock and making you come all over everything like saturday night, huh? can't take your eyes off of it after how daddy made you feel."

frank is definitely one for talking dirty, but out of the countless times we've done anything sexual in the past three months, he's never gone on like this or called himself daddy this much.

i learned that he likes to be called daddy about two weeks ago on the linoleum counter of my kitchen. his cock was buried deep inside my ass, and he was thrusting in and out. he whispered something like "so tight for daddy," and i responded by coming all over him. i've called him daddy ever since then, and he's thoroughly enjoyed himself.

"such a little whore, want daddy to control you so bad. do you like when daddy plays with your throat like this, when he's in control of how much air you get? when his fingers press into your neck like this?" he asks, and i moan louder and allow my head to fall back against a locker. "answer me, slut," he orders, slapping my ass twice. he doesn't remove his hand from my ass; he squeezes and rubs, and from his angle between my legs i feel his extremely hard length pressed against my left thigh.

"yes, sir. love it," i manage. frank likes my answer. he backs me up completely against the long gym lockers and the doors digging into my back feel anything but comfortable, but frank's hands on my cock through my shorts make it completely bearable.

he knows i tuck to the left side because he's stroking and rubbing and making my semi a complete erection, and i wish i could feel this way forever because it's fucking fantastic to have the hottest guy in the world playing with your dick. "who did this to you, baby? who make you hard and needy?" he asks, his grip on my throat temporarily loosening.

"daddy did," i say. he follows my words with a rough kiss on my lips, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"good boy," he states, repositioning himself. his cock is now pressed tightly against mine, my legs on the inside of his. i rock my hips up to meet his, hard, and he gasps. "still," he orders, grabbing my body and slamming my hips and body against the locker. i whine in submission and allow him to completely dominate me.

frank slides his hands under my shirt. one immediately goes to my chest and the other traces the muscles of my stomach. "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, his mouth on my mouth. he rocks his hips up to mine, grinding hard, but slow and steady. his cock rubs and presses against mine each time.

short little breathless gasps exit my mouth every time his cock meets mine, creating a glorious friction in my basketball shorts. "daddy," i moan, bringing my hands to his ass. i explore and fondle what's mine, until he stops his movement and stares at me in my eyes.

frank removes his hands from my body and moves them to where my hands are rested on his ass. he grabs them and snatches my arms around my body. with his left hand, he wraps his entire hand around my wrists and pins my arms above my head. "did daddy tell you it's okay to touch?" he questions, a harsh, dominant tone to his voice.

"n-no sir," i say, jerking my hips up against his, simply to see what would happen.

"gerard arthur," he says emphatically, pushing my body up against the locker even more. "stand. still. you aren't in control here, princess."

"yes sir," i respond, pink sweat dripping down my forehead from my freshly dyed red hair and my dick pulsating in my briefs.

"good." frankie bites my ear and holds his grasp tight on my arms above my head. his nails are digging into my skin, and the door of the top locker above me is leaving its mark on me too, but the pain only adds to the pleasure.

frank begins moving his hips again, returning his right hand to my waist under my clothes. he moves around in circles, alternating rhythms and methods of grinding on me. he's in complete control of what i feel and how much pleasure i receive; i can't move my lower body at all due to the way he's holding my waist against the lockers.

"gee, fuck," he moans, beginning to thrust his hips up to mine rather than grind in circles. "you're so hard, baby, oh my god."

frank presses kisses to my jawline before taking the skin between his teeth and nibbling gently. loud whimpers leave my mouth as I feel myself getting closer and closer to coming all in my basketball shorts.

"gonna come soon, baby boy," frank growls in my ear, his voice low and whiny. "you're so fucking hot, such a good boy, oh god." he moves his right hand back to my throat and wraps his hand around my neck again, pressing hard and choking me.

"daddy," i manage, trying to make him stop grinding on me for fear of coming before him. "close," i choke out.

"you know daddy comes first, baby." frank loses any rhythm he's been maintaining as his head falls forward onto my chest and his eyes squeeze shut. "baby, oh fuck, oh, gerard," he's moaning, and I feel his hips stutter. he comes in his shorts and I know the thick white substance won't be fun for him to clean out later, but it sure as hell is fun right now. "you make me feel so good, oh my god, gee. Such a good boy, letting daddy control you." frank rants when he comes, every time, talking about what a good boy i am or how good i make him feel. it's extremely hot and turns me on more every time.

i see the exhaustion in frankie's face as his hands start loosening with their grip on my hands and my throat. he releases my hands and i immediately hold onto his waist, wanting nothing more than for him to hold me tighter. he keeps choking me and uses his other hand to tug on my long red hair.

i buck my hips up to his and he grinds down on me. "come, baby. let go, gee."

i'm screeching and coming in my shorts as well, gripping frank tightly. "daddy, oh my god, fucking hell," i cry out. he kisses my lips and lets go of my throat and hair to hold my shoulders.

"so good, baby. such a good job," he coos, immediately carrying me to a bench and sitting me down. "i love you," frank mumbles against my skin. he presses his lips to mine again, sweetly and softly.

"what?" i ask, really confused at what frank just told me. "did you just–"

"i love you, gerard," he says again, more profoundly this time. he cups my cheek with his hand and presses his forehead against mine. "i know we just fuck around, but i really love you, gee."

"i love you too, frank."

"you do?" he asks excitedly, holding both of my cheeks and sitting closer to me.

"i do, frankie."


End file.
